The Influx
by Vir M
Summary: Devil Hunter Nero finds himself lost in a parallel dimension populated by a strange race of blue eyed warriors who call themselves The Protectors. Can he help save their way of life, or are they destined to preserve his own? No pairings.
1. Prologue

The Influx

_A Fanfiction by Vir M._

_Prologue:_

"**The Influx**"

* * *

No one knows how they got here--

–and no one knows why they came.

What is known, however, is nightmare.

We live in a nightmare world--

–but we have hope.

Hope resides in the blue-eyed ones.

They are the last hope for human kind.

But what are they, exactly?

Not quite human, not anymore. They are, in truth, closer kin to demons.

When the demons entered our world, when they ripped a hole through time and space to wreak havoc in our plane, those with blue eyes became... more.

But also, less.

They gained the powers of the demons, and rose up to combat them in order to protect the human race.

Those who defended were called "The Protectors."

Some, however, were not so compassionate towards the weaker caste of humans.

"Why not let them fall to the demons?" They asked. "Why not re-shape this world for our own sake? The sake of the blue-eyed ones?"

Those who sought bloodshed were dubbed "The Destroyers."

With their division, the war for our world transcended onto two planes:

Man vs. Demon

and Man vs. Man

But which is more deadly?

Humans and their greed, or demons and their destruction?

We do not know---

—for the war is not yet won.

We do not know how it will end.

But we _do _know how it began.

It began with

"The Influx."

* * *

**

* * *

AUTHOR TIME **

**Teaser for my next fic, "The Influx." I most likely won't post the first chapter until I finish with "By Blood Connected." (But I might post one or two, just to be nice. You never know.)**

"**The Influx" and "By Blood Connected" will cross over in "Sentient," the joint sequel to both fics. "Sentient" will begin after I have fully COMPLETED "The Influx and "B.B.C." Since "Sentient" takes place after both fics, it makes sense that way.**

**I typed this up in about five minutes during lunch today. It's not very good, but it serves its purpose. **

**I encourage you to go read "By Blood Connected" because you won't understand "Sentient" when I release it unless you do. Thanks!**

**This story will feature Nero from DMC4 as the main character, by the way. **

**DEVIL MAY CRY belongs to CAPCOM**

**VIR M. Owns "THE INFLUX"**


	2. Chapter 1: Nero

The Influx

_A Fanfiction by Vir M._

_Chapter One: _

"**Nero**"

* * *

If there was one thing Nero hated the most about his job, it had to be recon.

As the Order Of The Sword's most powerful devil hunter, it was his mission to infiltrate territories under demonic influence and sweep the area, eliminating all rogue demons found within a set perimeter. It was a mission of vital importance to the Order, a mission that could theoretically result in the salvation of mankind–

But did it have to be so boring?

Nero was currently sitting atop a trash can, broken bottles and rotten banana peels on the ground around him, the honk of nearby car horns occasionally harmonizing with the yowl of a distressed alley cat. His back was leaning against the wall behind his impromptu seat, one arm bound in a sling while the other lay crossed over his chest, and he looked quite bored and out of place in his clean violet and crimson coat amongst all of the filth that personified the alley-way.

He was supposed to be watching the apartment building two floors above his head. It's fire escape wound down to the street below, only about eight feet in front of Nero's make shift stake-out spot.

The seedy looking, second story apartment belonged to a cultist rumored to be practicing illicit black magic. The man had only _just_ enough followers to attract the Order's attention, but when they had sent out a novice hit squad to 'take out the trash,' and all four members failed to return, it became a job for Nero.

Nero, while not at all unhappy with his calling in life, was beginning to find the current job tiresome, to say the least. He was just about to give up on the cultist, a man named Jud Larky, when the lights in the upstairs window flicked on. Nero rose to his feet slowly, blue eyes trained on the rectangle of dirty-orange light when a woman's scream pierced the night.

A scream that issued right out of Larky's apartment.

Taking that as all the incentive he needed, Nero sprang into action, happy to at last see some action. He leapt up onto the fire escape, jumping from platform to platform and disregarding the ladders in a way no mere human could have accomplished.

He wasn't the Order's one-man clean up crew for nothing.

The screams grew louder as he neared the window and all at once he was blasted with it: demonic aura.

_Four of them. _He thought._ Just 'Pride,' though, by the feel of it. Damn, this isn't going to be any fun at all._ He grimaced mid flight as he hefted his Order-issued sword.

Nero had developed the ability to sense a demon's aura, or life force, at will. It was a standard practice for the Order's devil hunters, but Nero's was especially fine-tuned. While most ordinary members were able to merely sense the presence of a demon, Nero could actually tell what breed of demon each aura-type belonged to. Each demon race's aura was as individual as a fingerprint, though each demon in general had a common trait identifying them as hell-scourge.

Nero burst through the window at top speed, glass flying in a million razor pieces around him, scattering on the floor. He landed in a ready-stance, sword in hand, and took stock of the situation.

There were two humans, a man and a woman, and four demons, all Pride.

The man was standing inside of a messy circle drawn onto the floor, a knife in one hand. His other arm was gushing blood from what looked like a self-inflicted wound. It was bleeding very badly and showed no signs of letting up anytime soon.

The demons were currently focusing their attention on the woman, who was lying naked in the middle of the floor in, fear evident in her brown eyes wide and dropped jaw. Glass was dusted through her blonde hair like slivers of diamond.

_Protective circle. _Nero thought wearily. _He must have summoned the demons using his blood as a medium of manifestation and offered the girl as a sacrifice... _He didn't have a opportunity to continue his assessment seeing as how the demons took that moment to rush him.

_I won't even need to use my sword for this._ He thought with a smirk. He drew a revolver from his concealed shoulder holster and fired off two shots into the first demon's chest. It went down with a howl, collapsing into a pile of brittle bones and sand. He turned his attention to the others and made three quick, measured shots in their direction. They stood for a long moment, looked at one another, then leapt for Nero–

–only to burst into three identical piles of sand in the same instant, midair.

"They never learn." Nero said laughingly, shaking his head and holstering his gun.

The girl had fainted, and he left her where she lay. She would deal with it in her own way, when the time came for her to wake. He _did_ look through one of the closets in the seedy apartment for a blanket, though, and had covered her with care. Defenseless woman had always been a weakness of his.

The man, Larky, was dead. It seemed he had bled to death from that wound while Nero had been fighting.

_Great..._ thought Nero. _Just what I need_...

His mission had stated that he was to 'bring the subject back alive for questioning.' He sighed and ran a hand through his silvery-white hair, exasperated, then climbed back out the window, eager to leave the sight of the slain ones far behind.

* * *

**

* * *

AUTHOR TIME**

**OK, so here's the first chapter. It's purpose was to more or less introduce you to Nero. **

**Since we know just about NOTHING of Nero's personality, I get to make it up as I go! Yay! From what little I've seen, I have deduced this: he is calm and level headed, but can be quite witty when the need arises. Doesn't like to involve himself in emotional affairs (that's why he left that naked blonde chick all alone...poor baby) but is chivalrous (hence his covering her w/ a blanket). Despite the chivalry, however, he is a sexist who does not believe women are as strong as men, and thus need protection from the dominant sex. **

**Also.. I am used to writing in first person, so sorry if this seems forced or choppy. I'm used to 'I' and 'me' as opposed to 'he' and 'Nero.' Oi... I like first person better, but 3rd is best for this fic.**

**Well anyway, the next chapter will be up soon. Sorry this one was so short/uneventful, the first is always hard to get started w/. **

**NERO and the DEVIL MAY CRY demon's © CAPCOM**

**STORYLINE © VIR M.**


	3. Chapter 2: The Wall

The Influx

_A Fanfiction by VirM._

_Chapter 2:_

"**The Wall"

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**

The Order of the Sword's mission statement was to, in the name of Sparda, rid the human plane of demons and black magic. But alas, darkness was versatile. New methods of summoning, new types of demons of varying strengths (and not-so-obvious weaknesses) were constantly being created and re-mastered, and keeping up with the ever-changing variables was a trial. That was why 'taken alive' was such a big issue. Any suspects that could have discovered a new breed of magic or monster were to be 'interrogated' once apprehended. The Order even had a division of trained torturers just for that aspect of business.

Nero, however, was something of a problem-child. That's not to say he wasn't good at what he did --heaven knew his results were unquestionable– but it was his methods that were the real issue. His style was to get in there and get out as quickly as possible, the fewer the chances for the enemy to strike back, the better.

What that meant, much to the Order's chagrin, was something along the lines of "take no prisoners."

* * *

Nero kept alert as he climbed down the fire escape one-handed, eyes quickly scanning the dim alley, ears picking up the sounds of life buzzing beneath the nearby din of traffic. The ladder's cold iron bars leeched the warmth from his one free hand, and when his feet hit the ground with a solid 'thud,' he stuffed the aching digits into a pocket of his dark jeans. He turned then, and began to head towards the street proper, his demonic senses open and ready for attack.

Just because the summoner was dead didn't mean his servants were.

He was just about to leave the shadowy alley-way when he felt it:

The sharp zing of demonic aura.

He stopped where he was, hand imperceptibly inching towards his vertically barreled revolver, the Blue Rose. He turned his head a fraction of a measure, zoning in on the source of the demonic energy. His eyes opened in surprise as he absorbed the characteristics of the force.

It did not belong to a demon.

Most demons' aura manifested in dark, oily feeling clouds of raw power that seemed to invade the surrounding area like a foul smog. If colour had to be applied to it, it would exist in shades of deep, depressing blue, cancerous violet, or light-consuming black. Human's aura tended to be characterized with shades of yellow or green, with taints of blackness or bright-white depending on the moral values of the individual as well as their exposure to the supernatural.

This aura in particular, however, was red.

Not just any red. It was a deep crimson, with overtones of gold and orange that flickered like flames around the edges. Adding to its peculiarity was its heart. Its core was blue: a light, electric neon that was all at once brilliant–

–and disturbing.

It belonged to no demon, of that Nero was certain. It was too pure, too focused, too intelligent and individual to belong to any mindless, mass-produced legion.

Nero turned full around at that point, adrenaline flooding his system. He leveled the revolver towards the source of the strange force.

"Show yourself."

No one answered. The aura did not waver or shift, did not flicker with alarm like a regular energy field would have. It simply sat there, resonating with single-minded determination.

"Last chance." Nero spoke into the darkness with his cold voice. When no one answered, he fired.

His single shot echoed through the alley-way like a death sentence. He had fired about two feet to left of the strange energy source, and though he could not see the possessor of such an aura, the shot was measured not to hit the individual but to simply flush the person out of hiding.

As expected, it worked.

A figure slid out of its hiding place --a nook beneath the fire escape–and its long legged stride quickly ate up ground as Nero watched. He sprang into action as the figure appeared, and he kept his gun trained steadily between the all-too-human individual's shoulder blades even as he ran with near-demonic speed. The human was surprisingly agile, though, and managed to lever itself over the eight-foot chain-link fence at the end of the alley after only finding itself one hand-hold. Nero was close behind and cleared the fence with a leap.

When he cleared the barrier, he caught sight of the figure disappearing around the corner at the end of the alley.

_Fast._ Thought Nero in surprise, picking up running again. _Too fast, actually. _He smirked. _Lucky for me he's heading towards a dead end._

Nero's job had included learning the geography of the area surrounding the target, and he had become very familiar with this area of the city. On the other hand, the fleeing figure obviously wasn't. The particular route the fugitive was taking lead to an abandoned lot, surrounded on all sides by windowless apartment buildings. The only way out of that lot would be by flight.

Nero's grin widened as the runner dashed around a corner and into the lot. He arrived in the mouth of the lot just in time to see the lone figure run head-long into a brick wall–

–and disappear.

"What the–?!" Nero yelped in disbelief, skidding to a stop. Gravel crunched underneath his shoes. He holstered his gun and concentrated, seeking the runner's aura once more, and was met with--

Nothing.

"Shit." Nero muttered. The aura had completely vanished. He'd been around the block many a time, but had never seen anything quite like this, never met anyone who could erase their own life force so completely... and at will. "To just disappear into a brick wall..." He shook his head momentarily, clearing his means of perception. He sent out his demonic sensors once more.

The figure's aura had indeed disappeared. There were residual traces of it on the ground and on the wall, but otherwise—

The wall.

Nero snapped his eyes open once more and approached the blank brick face. He studied it for a long moment; it_ looked _like a wall. Its aura, however, betrayed it.

Magic poured off of it in waves, making Nero's head spin. It was a mix of black magic and white, with the sharp, acrid tang –

–of science?

_Weird_. He thought, suddenly alert.

Science, and all things produced by what humans called science, also burned with a particular energy: a bright, sterile looking grey. Science was, unbeknownst to humans, an actual form of magic based on nature.

Nero pondered the enigma that was the wall for a long moment, blue eyes narrowed in concentration.His eyes snapped wide as it hit him:

_A gate!_ He realized with a start. _This energy pattern feels like a gate's! _

Nero had, two times during his life, been exposed to the feeling of a gate leading to the demonic realm. It had had a very peculiar, numbing feel to it, and the wall had a similar effect on him.

_A gate... but warped_. He realized. It was indeed different than he was accustomed to, though he could not place just why.

He reached out his free hand slowly, fingers extended. The cold of the night bit into them, and his frosted breath obscured his vision. His fingertips met with the rough brick for a moment.

Then the wall pulsed beneath his hand.

He pulled back his arm, alarmed. Magical energy began to radiate off the nondescript surface in waves, hurting his head. Teeth grit against the dizzying sensation, he touched the wall a second time.

This time, he pushed his fingers against the surface, testing it to see if it would yield.

It did.

His fingers slipped through it easily, though they met with resistance that could only be likened to the feeling of wading through pudding.

Nero held his hand in the wall for a moment, absorbing the sensation before trying to pull it out again.

Key word here: "try."

The wall would not release his arm. Rather, it seemed to try to pull him into its depths.

"Fuck!" He shouted, bracing his feet on the loose gravel spread on the ground. His boots scrambled for purchase, found it and held tight, but it was not enough.

First, his only free arm was pulled completely inside. Eventually his legs became caught, and then his sling-bound arm was consumed. Only his head and neck and back remained outside of the wall's quagmirish interior.

Even with his near-demonic strength, Nero was unable to resist as it pulled him completely through.

"My–!" He tried to talk as he fell into the black depths, but his perceptiveness seemed to be slowing down. His senses dulled, and it felt like he was swimming in molasses.

Unable to resist, Nero closed his eyes and succumbed.

* * *

**

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AUTHOR TIME**

**Demons and strangers and demonic walls, oh my!**

**Jokes aside, it's been awhile. This chapter I wrote in about ten minutes, so forgive its rushed, unedited, NEEDS REVISIONS BADLY state. I work on this only when By Blood Connected bores me, as it did today.**

**Well anyway, how did you like it? Sorry this chap was so wordy and hard to read; I needed to take care of a bunch of crap with it. Like how Nero senses demons and what science and gates and people and devils all fell like... blah blah blah... anyway, it'll make sense later, trust me...**

**VIRM is the creator of THE INFLUX**

** NERO & DEVIL MAY CRY copyright Capcom**


	4. Chapter 3: Newfound Enemy

The Influx

_A Fanfiction by VirM._

_Chapter 3:_

"**Newfound Enemy"

* * *

**

When Nero regained consciousness, it was warm. Not terribly so, mind you, but enough to make him more than slightly uncomfortable in his long violet coat.

He also had a mouthful of dirt.

He struggled to his hands and knees, groaning, spitting out the filth in disgust. His head ached from the magical onslaught the gate has subjected him to, but he was otherwise unhurt. He sat cross legged, head in his hands, and took stock of his surroundings.

The empty lot was gone.

He was in a warehouse of some kind, an abandoned one by the look of it. Large wooden crates were stacked in towering rows all around him, forming a thirty-foot barrier around his sitting spot. There were no gaps between the super-sized boxes, but there was a ladder off to his left that stretched to the zenith of the wall, and, hence, an exit. To the right of the ladder was a set of strange-looking electronic equipment, the most notable apparatus of which looked like an advanced version of a seismograph. The area Nero was stuck in was about sixty feet by sixty, and drawn in the center of the space was a pentagram.

A pentagram he was currently sitting in the middle of.

He jumped to his feet and dashed to the edge of the circle, eager to vacate the confines of the magical device. Fiddling with unknown black sorcery was never a wise decision.

"Where in the world–?" He began to ask himself. He cut himself off as he heard his own voice echo throughout the building, magnified by ten.

Nero cursed inwardly. One of the first rules about entering unknown, feasibly hostile territory was to maintain the element of surprise.

He kept his ears alert for any signs of life outside the barrier formed by the crates, and, upon hearing none, headed for the ladder.

* * *

He dropped from the top of the crates, silent as a wraith, landing quietly on his booted feet. He looked around for a moment: no other crates were in the cavernous warehouse, and no humans (or otherwise) were present. There were several industrial forklifts and cranes scattered about; they must have been the machinery used to maneuver the boxes into their fortress-like arrangement. Also, much to Nero's surprise, there was no ladder on this side of the wall.

_Whoever drew that pentagram must have been one hell of a climber... _Nero thought. _No handholds, no rope, no nothing..._

Indeed, the blank wooden faces of the crates were smooth and devoid of crevices in which to lodge a foot or a hand. He shook his head for a moment, then concentrated.

His eyes snapped open.

Demonic energy was all around him, pressing down on him in a sickening blanket of foul feeling, and adding to the enigma:

Nero had never felt this kind of aura before.

It was a vile, pale grey-green; a gangrenous colour that reminded him of rotting flesh. His stomach churned momentarily, then relaxed.

Though the aura was everywhere, it was not very intelligent feeling. It felt hostile, yes, but it was unaware of his presence and simply buzzed in the back of his skull, nonplused.

Then, all at once, the aura's psychic pattern shifted.

It began to radiate blood lust and hate and raw hunger so intensely Nero had to jerk his demonic senses away in haste, knees growing weak. The buzz grew into a roar, then began to pound within his mind with painful ferocity. Nero was forced to completely break contact with the aura. He slowly reached back with his un-slung arm and drew his revolver out of its holster, eyes and ears open and alert for signs of life.

Nero's eyes darted over the empty warehouse, finally coming to rest on the main double doors. They were made of wood and were bolted shut, but he could see the daylight filtering in around their edges–

–as well as the dark shapes that occasionally obscured that self-same light.

He hefted his revolver, aiming it at the double doors, focused. He reached out his mind once more, hoping to count the number of his adversaries. He gave their psyches a tentative brush, making only the barest contact to avoid being blown over by their extremely gravitated auras.

_Lots. _He realized with a start. _Ninety, no one hundred of them... _He grimaced. _What are they, anyway? _They didn't feel like demons to Nero, let alone humans.

But there WAS something strangely human about them, despite their obvious lack of humanity and its principles. He just couldn't place why–

Suddenly, without warning, the doors rocked with the force of something plowing into them.

Nero bristled, hand tightening around the hand grip of his gun. The doors rocked a second time, then a third, then a fourth. The pounding increased in intensity, beating out a sickening tattoo on the wooden frames of the bolted doors–

–then they burst open.

Nero took a shocked step backwards as he took a good first look at his new-found foes. They were indeed people, or at least had been only a short while ago. Now, however, they were nothing more than a twisted mockery of life, a shambling mass of bones and rotting tissue.

Nero was staring at something straight out of a horror film:

Zombies.

Their faces were gray and waxy, bloated yet gaunt. Most of their mouths hung open, tongues lolling in saliva-less pits, revealing rotted, blackened teeth. Their noses were gone or decaying, and hair seemed to be falling out of their scalps almost continually. There were no whole eyes to be seen: most had already rotted out of their sockets, revealing grey-green brain tissue behind them. The few that were intact were milky-white and unseeing, emotionless. Nails had grown long on every finger, and the clothing that had once been serviceable was being eaten slowly away from their decomposing flesh, revealing blackened, twisted bodies.

Bones protruded from broken skin like snapped matchsticks, yet the creatures seemed to feel no pain nor shed blood. They advanced on Nero in a shuffling, shambling lurch; a veritable mob of decaying corpses. Arms outstretched, fingers scrabbling through the air and seeking prey, they limped forward. An unearthly moan issued from each set of dead, pebbled lips, a rattle of undead lungs choking on congealed blood and ichor. Though the fastest of them all could be out-raced by nothing more than a brisk walk, they advanced with such terrifying determination that they seemed unstoppable, frightening, invincible. They would have struck fear into the heart of any ordinary man, would have frozen him where he stood.

Luckily, however, Nero was no ordinary man.

He levered the gun, firing off a shot into the nearest zombie's skull. He hit it directly between the eyes, and the abomination's rotting visage became smeared over its companions skin in a grisly rainbow. Its now spent body crumpled to the ground and was trampled on by its oblivious, limping peers. Nero fired again, bullet dancing with the decaying brains of another zombie, and was met with the same result.

* * *

Shot after shot he fired, yet soon he became frustrated. For every undead he mowed down, for every shot to the skull he delivered with pin-point accuracy, he never seemed to make any headway. It was easy enough to avoid the hell-spawn; they were slow and made so much noise you'd have to be completely deaf to not notice their approach. Nero's own inhuman speed and jumping ability assured he was forever out of the monsters reach, but it was becoming difficult to maneuver to a safe distance away with so many crowing the warehouse's interior.

Eventually, Nero was forced to leap atop the barrier of crates set in the center of the warehouse. He stood still for a moment, surveying the now-diminished numbers of his enemies and was pleased to note that there were only about thirty or so left. A grin creased the refined features of his face as he chuckled darkly, eyes narrowed.

"Get ready..." He quipped. He lowered himself into a crouch and leapt off the crates, squeezing off rounds as he plummeted towards his adversaries. His booted feet hit the concrete lightly, and he re-holstered his revolver in favor of the sword slung across his back.

Nero launched himself into the fray, cutting quickly through the zombie's ranks. He shoved his weapon cleanly through the nearest legion's torso, forcing the blade upward and out through the shoulder, disconnecting the thing's head in the process. He spun around, dervish-like, and impaled another before the first had even fallen.

His clean violet coat soon became flecked with gore, and his up-kept boots soon squished through puddles of spent, congealed blood.

Nero's breath came in a steady pant. He was beginning to tire. Twice he was nearly caught hold of by decaying hands, but he somehow managed to elude them.

_Not good._ He thought, swinging his sword in a wide arc. _I need to be finding a way home, not wasting energy on brainless zombies_! He cut another one down. More had drifted in, though, and the situation was not looking good.

He was tired because, after all, he was no demon. His strength and speed were the near equals of one, yes, but his endurance was much less. It was hard to remember that sometimes.

Nero thought a long moment, arms and legs hacking away mechanically, and decided that resting atop the crates for a few moments --picking off zombies with his gun all the while-- would be a good idea. His stamina was drained. He leapt a short distance away from the three legion he had been tangling with, and steeled himself to leap up to the wall. His muscles contracted as he began to jump, but he paused for a long moment as he felt what weighed him down:

A hand had wound itself tightly in the tail of his coat.

A leering face grinned up at him obscenely, and in answer he whipped out his pistol in a lightening fast arc, blasting away its horrifying face.

The pause had cost him, however. Several zombies had taken advantage of the moment to launch themselves at him, and he was nearly bowled over by their weight. He fought under them for a moment before pulling out his sword and spinning it around him in a vicious circle, bisecting most of the zombies.

One, however, somehow managed to escape hurt. As Nero was forced into a vulnerable position halfway between a crouch and a kneel, he was caught unawares, and the nearest zombie leapt for his throat.

Nero's eyes widened as he saw the zombie's leap, and couldn't find footing to use to dodge. He could only sit there, watching in horror as the thing's hungry jaws drew closer and closer until–

A shot rang out.

A shot that Nero did not fire.

* * *

**

* * *

AUTHOR TIME**

**I ARE EVIL!!!! YES I ARE!!!!! MWAHAHAHA!!!!! Who fired the shot? Find out next time! **

**This is actually half of the chapter I had written. It was 18 pages long. This is nine. Much easier to read. I'll post the next half I wrote as soon as I can... but is so screwball it won't let me post chapters very much... Help, anyone?**

**GO READ **"By Blood Connected"** IF YOU HAVEN'T YET!!!!**

**THE INFLUX © VIRM.**

**DMC/NERO © CAPCOM**


	5. Chapter 4: Friend Or Foe?

The Influx

_A Fanfiction by Vir M._

_Chapter 4:_

**"Friend Or Foe?"

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**

* * *

The abomination's head burst, spraying the wall behind it with bone fragments and bloody pulp. Nero's eyes snapped to the open-doorway, heart pounding as he took in the sight of three human figures silhouetted against the sunlit world outside.

The three of them advanced, each carrying a heavy semi-automatic gun, progressing through the zombie's ranks in ever widening circles. They stayed in a back-to-back formation, covering each other while they shot, their formation both offensive and defensive at once. They methodically worked their way over to Nero, taking out the undead as they went, delivering precise head-shots to each lumbering beast. They did not once break ranks until all the zombies had been disposed of.

_Amazing._ Nero thought, still crouched on the cement floor, sword in hand. _They took out all of them! And so quickly!_

One of the figures broke away from the group as the last zombie fell. The lone man re-secured the double-doors while the other two stared down at Nero.

He rose to his feet and re-slung his sword, wary of the new arrivals. The others stared at him, or at least seemed to. Nero couldn't tell.

They were wearing helmets, for one; black kevlar helmets with a letter and number painted onto the side. An orange eye shield wrapped halfway around the helmet and was made of reflective glass that effectively obscured the occupant.

The rest of the outfit was equally strange: It consisted of a black leather body suit and tall leather boots. It was reinforced over the thighs, chest, back, shoulder, calves, and abdomen with thick steel plating secured by leather belts and silver buckles. A bandolier of pistol rounds was slung across each party member's chest, and a large black shield hung off of each person's belt. Each carried a hand-to-hand weapon as well, though they were all different.

Nero didn't say a word as he scrutinized them, and neither did they. When the third party member, a six-foot-four bull of a man, returned from securing the doorway, he was the one to break the silence.

"That there won't hold 'em off for long." He spoke with a distinctly southern drawl. "Best get into the fort." Nero stared at him a long moment, then the man looked his way.

"Use this." He had unwound a grappling hook from his around belt and was offering it to Nero. Nero shook his head.

"I can jump." He said. The man nodded.

"Well, that's good, 'cuz I can't." He laughed. "Up we go then." He promptly turned around, marched over to the towering boxes, swung the hook above his head for several long moments, then released it. It went flying and landed with a loud 'chunk.' The man tugged on it a moment, found it to be secure, then began to climb.

Nero simply leapt.

He landed atop the crates soundlessly, then stood, looking around for the man (who was still in the process of pulling himself up the rope). His eyes opened wide in surprise.

The other two silent figures were already inside the fort, fiddling with the equipment.

"Sorry 'bout them." Nero jumped, then turned. The man, having at last made it to the top, was addressing him. "We're not fond 'o strangers." Nero shrugged.

"I can relate." The man chuckled at that, then promptly leapt into the enclosure. Nero followed suit.

* * *

The man took off his helmet, revealing short-cropped black hair and a wide nose. His jaw was strong, cheeks flat, and he appeared to be in his late twenties. His eyes were strange looking yet familiar: they were a bright, almost electric blue that seemed to glow in the dim warehouse. Nero had never seen anything like them. He carried a heavy broad-sword, and grinned at Nero leisurely.

"Th' names Colby." He cradled his helmet underneath one arm, but did not offer his hand to Nero. Instead, he smacked his right fist against his breastplate, then swept his hand in a wide arc away from his body. The gesture appeared to be a greeting of some kind.

"Nero." Nero said. He cleared his throat. "Where are we?" Colby started to answer, face incredulous.

"What kind of question is that?"

Nero turned as the new voice interjected. One of the remaining two had spoken up. This one was a she, and she had a light, trilling voice that seemed to almost ring out of her 5'' 6' frame. She walked over to Colby and Nero, abandoning the last member of the party to the equipment, sweeping off her helmet in the process. A black-shafted, silver kinght's-lance was holstered to her back.

She had long blonde hair caught up high in a braid and pleasantly rounded face, and her eyes were the same unearthly blue that Colby's were. Nero wondered absently if they were siblings.

"I'm Suz." She made the same sweeping motion with her arm that Colby had performed, smiling prettily. "Short for 'Suzanne.'"

"This here's Nero." Colby said, gesturing. Suz nodded.

"Faction?" She asked Nero. "S.S. ranking?"

"Excuse me?" Nero asked, flabbergasted. Suz's face fell.

"Civ, then." She turned to Colby. "We've got to get him out of here."

"I suppose..." Colby said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with one gloved hand. "But isn't that a job for relocation?" Suz sighed.

"Yeah, but we found him, so it's our respon–" She would have continued, but was cut off.

"He's no civilian, Suz."

Nero turned slowly to face the last member of the party.

The man –or was it a woman?– advanced slowly on the group, pace measured. They stood at about five- ten and carried a long black stick –topped on one end by a large, fan shaped silver blade– over one shoulder. They other end was weighted with a silver ball and pike.

"No civilian is allowed to carry a gun of that caliber." The voice was deep, but not too deep, a completely androgynous voice. "Plus, he's a blue, though judging by his age he'd have been recruited by now." They did not remove their helmet as they advanced, leaving the electronic equipment behind them.

"O-oh, yeah, um, okay..." Suz stammered, averting her eyes, head bowed.

"His outfit's not a Ex, though, y'know." Colby looked nervous. "It's not one o' ours, neither..." A blush spread across his features.

_This one's the obvious leader_. Nero thought, studying the figure. _Even stands like one... _Indeed, the leader's stance was confident, dominant. _And what's an 'ex'? And what do they mean 'blue?' Who are these people?_

"Where are we?" Nero reiterated to the new-found leader. Their visored head swung to face him.

"Sector 5, M.S.E. quadrant 7." They shifted their fan-shaped-spear to their other shoulder, black-gloved hands steady. "Make sense?"

"No." Nero said flatly. The figure sighed.

"You might know this place as 'New Orleans.'" They said coldly. Nero nodded in recognition. He had indeed been in New Orleans right before he had fallen through that weird wall.

"How did you get here?" The masked figure asked, voice husky. Nero shrugged, again wondering at the sex of the speaker.

"I was chasing somebody. They went through a wall, and I followed." His eyes narrowed, and the man/woman stiffened. They said nothing further to Nero.

"We need to get back to base." They commanded. "There's been a complication." Suz and Colby both nodded, looking tense.

"What about the transit boards?" Colby asked as the leader turned from them. The figure paused.

"We need to relocate it." They said quietly. "Dismantle it and load Suz up. She'll transport it back and we'll go the long way."

"But what about your–?" Suz began. The leader cut her off.

"The equipment takes first priority. Second is Nero, here."

"What?" Nero asked, shocked. "Why me?" The leader wheeled on him, suddenly angry though Nero knew not why.

"You're not supposed to be here." Their sexless voice was emotionless despite the viciousness radiating off of them.

Nero knew better than to pry. The leader obviously had a short fuse, and that spade-ish-spear thing was wickedly sharp.

"What's and 'Ex?'" Nero asked. The leader's head jerked back in surprise.

"We'll explain back at base." Colby spoke up hastily. "Not enough time here. We need to move out, fast."

"Are they close?" Suz piped.

"Yeah." Colby's brow furrowed. "Be impassable in ten minutes. Best we hurry." He promptly strode over to the electronics and began winding up cables. "Get ready, Suz."

"I will." She said somberly.

Nero expected her to go over and help pack up, but she did not. Instead, she lowered herself to the ground and bowed her head over her hands. The air suddenly grew chill.

_What is she doing?_ Nero thought. He closed his eyes for a long moment, concentrating.

"Christ!"

Colby and the mysterious leader both turned to look at him. Suz did nothing, oblivious. Nero's jaw went slack for a moment.

"That's no human aura!" He said slowly.

Indeed it was not. It was reminiscent of the aura he had felt back in the alley-way. It had the same blue heart and unusual outer colour, but instead of having a flame red shade it was a lovely, gradually dissipating violet flecked with molten gold.

He stretched out his senses towards Colby and was met with similar results. The heart was again that unusual blue, but it faded into a deep green as it radiated away from him. Then Nero turned his attention to the apparent leader, and was met with--

_Flames._

"You!" Nero snarled, drawing his sword and pointing it towards the helmet-wearing figure.

"You're the one who brought me here!"

* * *

**

* * *

AUTHOR TIME**

**Who are the mysterious, armor-clad, unusual-aura-ed people? Who are the 'Ex' people they keep referring to? What is up with their sexless leader? What do they mean by 'blue?' And zombies? ZOMBIES?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE ZOMBIES DOING HERE?! All that and more next chapter!**

**Anyway, sorry updates are slow with "By Blood Connected" (which if you haven't read by now you SHOULD go do, but no one listens to me...) I've been on vacation. And wouldn't let me load documents. Anyone else have the same problem?**

**NERO/DMC (c CAPCOM**

**THE INFLUX (c VIRM.**


	6. Chapter 5: Sion

The Influx

_A Fanfiction by Vir M._

Chapter 5:

"**Sion"

* * *

**

The air was still, silence the only reigning monarch.

"So you figured it out." The leader's sexless voice cut through the air like a knife.

"It's hard to forget an aura like that," Nero growled, hands tight on the sword's hilt. He was itching to simply plow into the masked leader's willowy frame with the Red Queen, but he held back. Answers had to come first.

"I am not your enemy," the masked figure said slowly, holding up their hands in a peace gesture. Neither the now sweating Colby nor the oblivious Suz moved.

"Ready."

Nero's head whipped around as Suz spoke. Her clear eyes snapped open—

--but they were no longer blue.

They had shifted, changed. They were a deep violet flecked with gold, and the pigment had spread to cover not only her once-blue irises, but the whites of her eyes as well. They glittered with a strange light, one that chilled Nero to the bone. He looked away quickly, unsettled.

Colby bent, and with a grunt hefted all the disabled machinery to his back. He strode past Nero, who was staring in stark disbelief at the display of strength, and set the equipment down next to the still-sitting Suz.

She reached out a hand and placed it on the largest piece's frame. Her vivid eyes closed.

Then she was gone.

There was no flash of light or noise of any kind; no whoosh of wind or clap of thunder. Suz and the machines were simply not there, their places as empty as if they had never been.

"How did...?" Nero began, eyeing the spot. Then his eyes flickered to the pentagram on the warehouse floor. "Is this magic?"

"You could say that," the leader intoned. "We all have it here, though it differs by person." Nero's eyes narrowed.

"Who's 'we?'" he asked. He did not sheathe his sword, and the flame-auraed individual did not seem at all perturbed. They looked past Nero to Colby.

"We need to move quickly; correct, Colby?" they said quietly. Colby nodded, chewing absently on one of his gloved knuckles, his eyes filled with vacancy.

"They're close."

"Who's close?!" Nero snapped. "Why are you being so damned mysterious?"

"All will be explained," the leader reiterated. "Come with us. We are not your enemy."

Nero stood his ground for a long moment, staring intently at that orange eye-shield and hoping to find some trace of emotion in is reflective depths.

He found none, and was not comforted.

Still, something in Nero's gut urged him to go along with the two men before him, despite the fact that he did not even know the leader's name. Speaking of which…

"Your name."

The leader inquisitively cocked their head to the side. "Excuse me?" they asked dryly. Nero gazed at them unblinkingly.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me your name."

The masked one hesitated a moment, as if measuring Nero's words. Then they shrugged, turned away, and took hold of the ladder leading out of the enclosure. They stood still a moment, hands poised on the ladder's support beams, then turned their face back to Nero.

"You may call me 'Sion,'" they said. A hint of a smile lingered in the words despite the situation. "And take care you don't forget it."

* * *

**

* * *

AUTHOR TIME**

**HA! THIS FIC IS SO NOT DEAD!** **Go crazy, kids!**

**This was a quickie chapter meant to throw me out of my "no will to write" rut. "N.W.W." Yeah. The next one's longer and has a bit of action in it. WOOT!**

**Anyway, J gave this a brief edit for technical issues. THANK HER! Also, thank YOU, reviewers, for giving me feedback. You ROCK! Keep it coming! I'd love to see your thoughts on this fic!**

**THE INFLUX (C) VIR M.**

**DEVIL MAY CRY/NERO (C) CAPCOM**


	7. Chapter 6: The Island

The Influx

A Fan Fiction by Vir M.

Chapter 06:

"The Island"

* * *

Sion led Colby and Nero out of the enclosure and to the warehouse doors. However, he did not open them—as Nero expected him to—but instead stood a hair's breadth from them, head cocked as if he were listening to a far-off sound.

"Colby," Sion hissed, voice muffled by his helmet. Even though he was speaking, he did not move at all—Nero could hardly tell he was breathing, let alone speaking. "How close now?"

Though Colby had donned his helmet, Nero could still tell the big man was worried; his voice sounded strained and his hands clenched into unnaturally tight fists. . "We have five minutes if we're quiet. Maybe. They're moving our way, and fast. Scouts, most likely; built for speed."

"Hmph," said Sion. He stood there, as still as the grave, and muttered: "A distraction, then, to draw their attention elsewhere as we make an escape. What do you think?"

"Sure," said Colby in an automatic voice. It was obvious to Nero that Colby would not willingly go against Sion's opinion, for whatever reason, and Nero was struck once again with the thought, _Sion's the leader of the pack, I'm sure of it._

"Good," said Sion, and moved. He reached into a small leather bag strapped to his belt and pulled out an egg-shaped object the color of dark olives. A grenade, Nero realized as he watched Sion depress the spoon and carefully pull the pin. "Both of you, on my count of three, are to start running." He turned to Nero. "Nero, follow Colby. I'll catch up. And let me make this clear—stop for nothing. Our priority here is to make it out alive and undetected. If you spot one of the infected, don't kill it. You can outrun it. Understand?"

Nero nearly asked what the 'infected' were, but intuited by the presence of the zombie gore on his boots what Sion meant, and nodded. Sion—seeing this—gave Colby a curt nod. The large man responded by quietly unbolting the double doors.

"One," breathed Sion, "two…_ three!"_

With a kick that boomed like a shot, Colby swept open the doors and began to run. Sunlight blinded Nero, and it took an instant for him to follow, but to his credit he did not chance a look back at Sion. Something in the man's voice spoke to him of confidence Nero was unable to refute.

However, when a wall of heat and a tsunami of sound caused by a detonating grenade washed over him from behind and an ash-laden wind nearly knocked his feet out from under him, he did look back, just in time to see Sion bolting from the billowing smoke and blazing remains of the warehouse. The hot air rained burning shards of wood on Nero's hair and neck, and he could smell his clothes singeing. Sion, however, appeared no worse for wear, and quickly overtook Nero, displaying a nimbleness that took Nero by surprise.

"Keep running!" Sion shouted over the sound of crackling wood, and bounded ahead of Nero. The devil hunter grit his teeth and quickened his stride, blindly following Sion and Colby through the warehouse district.

The place appeared to be deserted, and once the trio cleared the smoky air around the burning storehouse, Nero could taste salt in every breath he took. So they were by a dock, were they? His suspicions were confirmed when he found his feet making hollow clunking noises on the rickety wooden boards of a pier. Surf made tame by human construction lapped at the pier calmly, an antithesis to the chaotic smoke rising high into the sky behind them.

The three ran toward the end of the dock, where a small skiff was tethered. "Don't stop!" Sion barked, pointing ahead of himself midstride. "Just get on board!" Colby immediately jumped onto the boat and began untying the anchor lines; Sion followed, where he fiddled with a motor attached to the stern. After a moment it roared into life, and Nero jumped into the boat just in time to avoid getting stranded. It roared away from the pier, growling like an animal and tossing up foam in its wake.

Sion and Colby both visibly relaxed once they were a good distance from the shoreline.

"That went well," said Colby cheerfully. He ripped off his helmet and breathed deep.

"Exceedingly," concurred Sion, deftly maneuvering the boat. "Now comes the matter of getting back to the Island. Please navigate for me, Colby. I believe Suz left the map and the compass in the storage unit beneath your seat."

Nero suppressed a shudder. Though Sion's words were cordial—even good-natured—his tone held all the warmth of a glacier.

It didn't seem to bother Colby, though. "Damn secret compartment," Colby growled, rising to his feet with a roughish grin. He swayed as the boat rocked on the water, but remained steady.

Nero looked back at the shoreline. A vast column of smoke rose above the quickly diminishing silhouettes of the warehouses, black against the pale blue sky, and at first that was all Nero thought he had left behind him. But, then, something else caught his eye. Nero squinted back at the pier; the boat was close enough for his to distinguish four—maybe five—motionless black shapes standing quietly on the dock. They were too far away for him to determine detail, and he wrote them off as zombies, at first, but after a moment revoked the hypothesis. Their backs were too erect to be the stoop-shouldered undead.

"Do you see them?"

Nero jumped. Sion was looking at him (his mask was turned in Nero's direction, at any rate) as Colby muttered over his sea chart.

"Yeah," Nero said, looking back. The figures were gone. How did they move that quickly? "Were those the ones we were running from?"

Sion chuckled. "Sharp, aren't you?"

Nero bristled. "And aren't you a cryptic little fucker?"

Sion didn't say a word; just basked in his unnatural stillness. In the face of such unflappable poise, Nero felt his anger waver… for the time being. He turned to look at the ocean. "The ones on the pier… they weren't zombies, were they?" he asked, looking down at the water skimming past the boat's hull. White foam danced into the air, stinging his eyes and making his hair sticky.

This took Sion by surprise, apparently, because he started and said "What makes you say that?" in too cool of a tone to be genuinely unperturbed.

Nero shrugged. "They don't stand the same."

"Very astute of you," Sion replied after a brief hesitation.

Nero shrugged again. "Where are we going, anyway? I'm guessing it's not a tea party."

Sion didn't seem to get the joke—or, at least, he didn't find it good enough to merit mention. "The Island," was all he said, and fell silent as he guided the boat over the waves, which were becoming more and more choppy as they moved farther out to sea.

* * *

Some time later—perhaps an hour, maybe more—the outline of a small island mounted the horizon: a craggy spit of land rising up out of the sea in sheer cliffs and ridges of sandy-gray stone. Jagged rocks ringing the island's perimeter for at least ninety feet in all directions made passage perilous to ships and submersibles, but their skiff could make it, Nero was sure, as its bottom was flat and did not descend far into the waves. Birds—gulls, most likely—wheeled about overhead.

After navigating through the maze of sea-mired boulders to the island's side, Sion steered the skiff straight at the cliff face and gunned the engine's throttle; the boat sped forward. Nero snapped: "What are you doing? We'll be dashed to death!"

Colby chuckled "think again" just as Sion jerked hard on the tiller, bringing the boat around so it was running nearly parallel to the cliffs. Then he jerked it, again, directly at the face.

Nero nearly bellowed another warning, but stifled it when he realized that Sion had maneuvered the boat into a small opening he hadn't previously noticed: blocked by the boulders ringing the island, it would have been invisible to any who did not already know of it.

Nero was grudgingly impressed with Sion's expert handling of the vessel. The masked man had a cool head. The sound of the motor was deafening as the tiny boat sped down an unlit tunnel, and Nero blinked in the sudden darkness. When his eyes adjusted, he could see that the tunnel was unnaturally smooth. Manmade.

_Odd,_ he thought. _It would be nearly impossible to carve this in the rock, what with the water and everything._

After about three minutes, a blip of light appeared at the end of the tunnel. It flickered unsteadily, like a bad bulb, and the splotch grew bigger and bigger as they drew closer. Soon, they drifted into a cavern. Boats, mostly small skiffs like their own, dotted the water beneath a high ledge that ran all the way around the grotto. Barnacle-encrusted ladders, made of steel, stretched from the top of the water to the top of the outcropping, and it was to one of these Sion steered the boat. Colby tethered the skiff to the ladder, and Sion clambered up the ridge. Nero followed her, and Colby came after. Low watt bulbs hung from the high ceiling, casting unsteady light on the trio.

"This way," said Sion, walking towards one of the walls. A small opening—not much bigger than a regular sized door—had been carved out of the cavern wall. Nero had taken not two steps inside the shadowy corridor before a voice demanded: "State your name and rank. And be quick about it."

Sion held up his hands. "Sion of Sqad 9, with Colby of the same." Colby waved at the mention of his name and said, "Howdy."

"And the third?" the voice asked. The echoes kept Nero from pinpointing the speaker's location, but he could discern a few other things—the speaker was male and older than Sion, probably about 40, and was very, very, wary.

"Under my protection," said Sion, "as well as the Cyrus's."

Silence, and then a mollified: "Oh. Well, then. Welcome back."

Lights blossomed into being as the spokesman flipped a switch. When his eyes adjusted, Nero saw and older man with iron-gray hair clad in a bigger version of Sion's leather and steel body suit, sans helmet. His eyes were Colby and Suz's luminescent blue, and he carried a huge rifle over one shoulder.

"Sion, you go ahead and brief the captain," he said, tone better natured than before. "Colby, go find your woman and tell her you're okay; Suz's been going nuts over you." He ushered Sion, Colby, and Nero forward with his gun. Nero felt a tremor of amazement worm into him. Colby and Suz weren't related? But those eyes! Then he remembered that the guard had them, too. Interesting.

A circular door that would look more suited on the main hatch of a submarine blocked the rest of the corridor. The man with the iron hair began to fiddle with the numerous dials and wheels on its surface. "And as for you, Mr.…?"

"Nero," Nero supplied.

The door opened with the hiss of a released air lock. "Right. As for you, Nero, I'm afraid you'll have to leave that pretty sword with us. For security's sake, you understand?"

Nero's hand wandered to the Red Queen's hilt. He had invested too much time in the swords custom features to let it out of his grasp anytime soon. "This stays with me."

Sion spoke up. "Nero," he said, "you'll get it back. This is just a precautionary measure. We have not had visitors in a long time."

Nero stood still, thinking, but eventually handed the sword over to Sion.

"And your gun," said Sion.

Nero handed that over, too, and was about to relinquish the knife he kept in his boot, but realized that these people didn't know about it. He could get away with it. And besides, it wasn't much good for killing anything bigger than rabbits. It shouldn't matter.

"Thank you," said Sion, and looked at Smith. "Take him to the lounge and get him some new clothes." He disappeared into the hatch with Nero's weapons. Colby, with a wink at Nero, followed as he muttered: "Gotta go find the Mrs."

"Bye," said Nero as Colby vanished into the darkness beyond the hatch. Behind him, the iron-topped guard cleared his throat.

"I'm Smith," he said bluntly, stepping past the airlock. "Follow me."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**I recently had the misfortune of breaking my elbow—or 'shattering' it, as the doctors have said many, many times. This being the case, don't expect much from me too soon. I have another chapter of this story, plus one of another, ready for release (wrote them before the accident, yo) , but don't hold your breath for more. Love you guys! See you around!**

**Oh, and I'm DEFINITELY editing my past chapters soon. Ergh, they're bad. Or maybe I've improved (I'm hoping for the latter).**

**THE INFLUX © VIR M.**

**NERO © CAPCOM**


	8. Chapter 7: The Hive

The Influx

A Fan Fiction by Vir M.

Chapter 07:

"The Hive"

* * *

Nero and Sion followed Smith down another unnatural rock tunnel. Though it was much smaller than the one they had passed through in the boat, the sheer length of the man-made passageway was an impressive sight, although a bleak one. Tan stone walls without relief bled into more walls and even more tunnels, and at one point Nero found himself thinking: _And I thought that the _headquarters_ was depressing_. After approximately ten minutes of monotonous walking and a series of turns Nero could not for the life of him remember, the trio came to a huge steel door integrated into the stone. A key pad had been sunk into the wall at the door's right.

"Is this it?" Nero asked. "Just tunnels and doors and more tunnels? You need an interior decorator. You know, to breathe some life into this place." He turned to look back at Sion, who had been following him. "Don't you think so—" He paused. "Where'd he go?"

"Where did who go?" said Smith.

Sion, at some point during the walk, had vanished. Nero had not seen him leave. "Sion," the devil hunter snapped. "Who else?"

Smith, who had begun to carefully punch a sequence of numbers in to the keypad, said: "Sion left almost five minutes ago. You didn't notice?"

"No. Should I have?"

Smith stopped inputting the code and gave Nero a puzzled look. "Of course," he said. "You're a blue, aren't you?"

Nero opened his mouth to ask just what the hell Smith meant by calling him a 'blue,' but at that moment a loud click sounded from the other side of the door. Smith had not, however, seemed to finish entering the password, as he turned away from Nero and entered an additional sequence which resulted in another booming click. Smith repeated the process with a different code three times more. After the last cipher has been entered, the door slid upward into the rock and out of sight.

No sooner had it disappeared than the sound of cocking guns drifted out of the room within. Four men and two women stood in a semicircle around the door, each holding a high-caliber rifle at chest level. The sights were all fixed on Nero.

"He's fine, he's with me," said Smith hastily, holding up his hands. "Sion's got his weapons."

The six, identically dressed in the leather jumpsuits that lacked steel plating, relaxed and lowered their arms. Four wandered off into a brightly lit room filled with industrial steel tables and benches, but one man and one woman stayed near.

"Who is he?" asked the man. He was a short guy with thick black hair and olive skin. His eyes were that strange electric blue Nero had seen on so many of the people here.

With a start, Nero realized that _all _of them had the eyes.

"Dunno," said Smith, "but Sion seemed to think the Captain would want him."

"Why?" asked the woman. She had a rope-like braid of thick red hair pulled over her left shoulder and delicate features.

Smith shrugged. "Beats me. But Sion told me to get him some new clothes."

Nero looked down at his outfit. His nice coat and boots were stained with zombie gore.

The redhead nodded curtly. "I'll see to it." She looked at Nero, sizing him up with her eyes. "Come with me."

Nero glanced at Smith, who nodded at him, and followed the woman. The redhead led him past the others, who were grouped around a table watching a pair play chess, and into one of the seven or so rooms just off the main hall. Inside were sets of clothes, neatly folded on wire shelves and arranged according to size. A washing machine and a dryer had been shoved into one corner. She glanced over Nero, assessing his bulk with her odd eyes, and selected a set off the shelves. Then she led him back out again, and pointed at another of the doors. Smith and the black-haired man had moved to watch the chess game.

"There's a locker room with showers in there," she said. "Pick a locker; soap and towels are inside. If you want to shave, you'll find razors in the cabinets beneath the sinks." Her nose wrinkled. "And try to get cleaned up. You're filthy."

"Thanks," Nero said after a moment of silence. Though he wasn't sure if she'd insulted him or helped him, he decided to take her advice anyway. "Where do I leave my things?"

"In the locker you get the towel from. We'll get them cleaned up for you."

The locker room was reminiscent of a standard high school gymnasium: steel lockers everywhere, though they all lacked locks; wooden benches lining the walls and locker shelves; pale blue tile; showers with flimsy curtains. There was only one mirror, however (and a small one at that) mounted above the six sinks set into a counter along the back wall.

Nero picked a locker at random, took out a towel, a bottle of shampoo, and a bar of soap. Neither were labeled, but he could tell what they were by scent and common sense. He sat down, took off his boots with one hand, stripped, folded his clothes and put them in the locker. Then he took a bath, something that took a certain amount of skill when his arm was still bound tight in a sling. There was no hot water, only one knob with default settings of 'cold' and 'colder.' His teeth were chattering by the time he got out, toweled dry, and dressed.

The redhead had given him a pair of black jeans and a shapeless gray sweater of coarse weave. A pair of boxers, too, but no shoes, so Nero had to stick with his brown leather boots even though they clashed horribly with the rest of the outfit. It wasn't that Nero was picky about his appearance; it was just that he'd spent a lot of money on those boots and didn't like to see them abused like that. After a short-lived deliberation, he tucked the small dagger he normally wore in his shoe into his sleeve. Once dressed, he walked out.

The room's seven occupants turned to him in unison, their random chatter ceasing abruptly. Identically colored eyes appraised him, and for a moment Nero froze. Their moves had been identical, uncannily so.

Suddenly they went back to normal (as normal as a group of people playing chess and toting massive firearms could be, anyway). Smith approached him, leaving the others behind, and said in an appreciative voice: "You clean up good."

"Thanks," said Nero, now questioning the man's sexuality. He looked around. "What now?"

Smith scratched the back of his arm, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Wait for orders, I guess. Someone'll be along shortly to collect you."

Nero frowned; he didn't like the way Smith had phrased that. 'To collect you.' It made him feel uneasy.

"Do you play chess?" asked Smith. "That's what we do for fun when we can't go topside."

"Where?" asked Nero.

"Topside. Above ground. Our whole base is under the island's surface. We go up—" he jerked his finger at the ceiling, "—to train and relax when the weather's bad."

"When the weather's 'bad?' You guys vampires or something?"

Smith chuckled. "Keeping this base a secret is paramount. If there's a chance we can be seen by anyone, we won't take it. So we only go above ground when no heli's can fly."

Nero could understand that, and said so. Smith gave him an approving nod. He was about to ask Nero to sit down and play a game of chess with him when the sound of the door disengaging its locking systems echoed through the room.

The effect was instantaneous. All of the men and women in the room leapt to their feet, grabbed their guns, and formed a half circle around the door. When it flew up into the ceiling they cocked the weapons and simultaneously took aim. Watching them was like watching telepathic synchronized swimmers in action; the moves were so precise it boggled the mind.

To Nero's surprise, Suz burst into the room. She had shed the steel plating on her uniform and only wore the leather body suit, but she still had her lance strapped to her back. Colby followed her inside a bit more calmly, massive broadsword in tow.

The others all lowered their weapons and returned to the chess board. Suz's eyes darted over the room and came to rest on Nero. She stared at him, but addressed Smith. "I'm to take him to the Infirmary. Captain's orders."

Smith raised a metallic eyebrow. "With two armed escorts? Seems a bit extreme, don't you think?"

Suz shrugged. "I'm only following orders."

It was Smith's turn to shrug. Without another word he walked off, back to the chess game.

Suz smiled. "Come with me."

Nero followed both Suz and Colby back through the main part of the stone tunnel and down a short hallway. There was another steel door that required numerous codes, which Suz dutifully input. The door opened on a hawk-like woman against a backdrop of a clean white room outfitted with standard medical gear. She wore a white lab coat and delicate silver spectacles, and though an Uzi lay at her side she made no move to pick it up. Her back was turned to the door.

"Hello Suz, Colby," she said without turning around.

Suz got right to the point. "Captain's ordering a physical for the newcomer, here." She gestured at Nero, who was puzzling over the enigma of how the doctor woman had known just who was opening the door. Had she been warned in advance? It didn't seem likely, as Suz had taken the time to explain to her why she, Colby, and Nero were there.

"Ah," said the tall woman. She had silver hair, the bright blue eyes that seemed to be so common in this part of the world, a hooked nose, and harsh cheekbones. She leaned her Uzi against a set of drawers, then began to paw through them. "Let me get the forms." She waved a hand at her visitors without turning around. "You can leave. I'll call you when I'm done."

"Alright," said Suz. She pushed Nero forward and left the room with Colby.

"My name's Olga," said the doctor, still looking through her desk. "Have a seat on the examination table, if you would. Now where in the world did I put that… ah, here we go!"

Nero sat down on the paper covered metal table just as she wheeled around with a triumphant look on her face, clipboard and papers in hand. "Name," she said, pen poised over the document.

"Nero," said Nero.

"Age?"

Olga continued to grill him on his statistics, then weighed and measured him. She tested his eyesight, hearing, and reflexes, then did a few intelligence tests. After a half hour she started the flexibility test and when she got to Nero's right arm she laid her hands on the bandages and asked: "What did you do to it? Can I look at it?"

Nero pulled away from her. "I'd prefer you not to."

Olga frowned, eyes burrowing into the bandaged on Nero's arm, and made a note on her clipboard. Nero expected her to pester him, but she didn't. "Suit yourself." She pulled a heavy duty walkie-talkie out of her coat pocket. "We're done in here. Come on in."

The bolts on the door immediately started coming undone; Olga, once again, did not make a move towards her formidable looking weapon. Suz looked grave; her face had set itself into a mask of apprehension.

"What's up now?" Olga asked.

"The Captain wants to meet with Nero personally," Suz said, "and he wants you to send him your findings."

"Right," said Olga. "Will do." She waved her hand at them. "You'd best hurry. Cyrus doesn't like waiting."

"I know," said Suz, and walked to the door. Nero wordlessly hopped off the table and followed.

After navigating through what seemed to be and endless amount of tunnels and unmarked corridors Nero asked: "Who's Cyrus?"

Colby, surprisingly, jumped on that question. "He's our leader," he said.

"The one who keeps us safe and organized," Suz added.

"Oh," said Nero. "And what does he want from me?"

Suz and Colby looked at each other, and hesitated. "He… told us not to discuss it," said Suz. "He wants to explain it to you himself."

Nero sighed. "Figures," he said. "I get thrown out of one hell-hole job and into another. This is just great."

Suz and Colby shot each other confused looks, then shrugged as one.

The three continued through the honeycomb of hallways until they hit a massive metal door that looked like a submarine hatch. After inputting at least a dozen codes on the keypad Suz led Nero inside. Colby stood guard in the hall.

"Please try to be respectful," Suz said as she led Nero through yet another tunnel. Unlike the others, however, stone had been replaced by black metal and spherical red lights set high up on the walls every twenty feet or so; it reminded Nero of a photographer's dark room, only more sinister. "Cyrus is the one responsible for the salvation of this part of the world after the Influx and the takeover of the Ex's, so we all owe him a great debt of gratitude, and—"

"'The Influx'?" Nero asked. "'Ex's'? You dropped both those words earlier today, but I still don't know what the hell they mean!" He stopped walking and clenched his unbound fist at his side. "When am I going to get some damned _answers_?"

Suz stopped walking, then, and looked at Nero. Her blue eyes sparked with interest. "You really are from another world, aren't you? You don't know anything about this place at all."

Nero's anger cooled at the sight of Suz's calm expression; he felt ashamed at his outburst. After all, hadn't Suz promised that this 'Cyrus' would provide an explanation? "I guess," Nero said. "Today's been kinda rough. I didn't know other worlds exited until today, and—" Nero stopped himself, because he realized he was not speaking the truth. Hadn't he known about the existence of the demon world for some time?

"What's wrong?" asked Suz. When Nero didn't say anything, she sighed. "Come on, then. Cyrus is waiting."

The pair walked in silence down the rest of the red-lit tunnel until the passageway terminated in a huge room whose higher reaches disappeared into darkness. The circular cavern was lined with computers whose lights flashed in a cacophony of colors and intensities; on the curved wall opposite the tunnel entrance was a ten-foot high pane of frosted glass, the function of which Nero could not pinpoint. Below the glass was a long desk, on top of which sat a dozen or so computer screens of all shapes and sizes. In the center of the space was a low bed-like object—the table curved in mimicry of a human spinal column, the way a dentist's chair would. Over it was a glass lid, making Nero think of a futuristic Sleeping Beauty's coffin. Beneath the lid swirled a miasma of white mist, obscuring the casket's contents.

"Cyrus!" Suz called, walking towards the glass coffin. "Nero is here!" She placed her hand atop the case; sections of the glass lit up under her finger tips, and the crystal lid split down the middle. A white fog of compressed gases seeped out of the slit.

"What is that?" Nero asked, approaching. "It looks like a freezer. Is it a freezer? What's inside—" He stopped, eyes widening. "Holy shit!"

The mist cleared. Inside the coffin was a man.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Half of this was written a LONG time ago; the ending was written earlier this afternoon. The story is progressing and soon we will have answers as well as plot. Yay, plot.

I am inordinately fond of Cyrus, by the way. He's great. Just wait, you'll love him. (Either that or you'll hate him, which is just as good. You'll see why later.) I am also crazy about Sion, who we will learn more about in future chapters. Yay!

NERO © CAPCOM

THE INFLUX © VIR M.


	9. Chapter 8: Truth

The Influx

A Fan-fiction by Vir M.

Chapter 08:

"Truth"

* * *

"Cyrus!" Suz called, approaching the coffin. "Nero is here!"

The doors of the glass coffin swung open. A pale hand grasped the side of the box, tensed, and pulled. First an arm appeared, then a shoulder, then the naked torso of a frail-looking man. A torrent of long, corn-silk blonde hair spilled over the side of the casket; the expanse reached the floor and pooled there like a puddle of satin threads.

"Oh, goodie," the person in the box said. His voice was accented by a light British lilt. "I was beginning to think you'd never get here."

"I'm sorry, sir—the physical took longer than expected." Suz reached into the glass coffin and helped pull out the man inside. Nero, the moment Cyrus' face came into view, felt his jaw drop.

Cyrus, clad in a loose-fitting white robe that hung open to the waist, was easily the most handsome man Nero had ever seen, only 'handsome' wasn't the right word. He was too fragile, too delicate for 'handsome'—the only other word Nero could think of was 'beautiful,' but it seemed too feminine, somehow. Cyrus' high cheek bones, strong jaw, straight nose, and well-shaped lips were lovely, but not at all girly.

"Please pardon my appearance," Cyrus said, looking at Nero for the first time. His eyes were the bright blue as Suz's and Colby's, but as he leaned on Suz for support Nero realized that there was one big difference between Cyrus and the rest of the blue-eyed people Nero had met. While all of the others had appeared healthy and strong—even the women had appeared to be as fit as Olympic athletes—Cyrus was weaker than a newborn. His legs were thin and undeveloped; his collarbone stood out from under his skin like a starving child's. Nero was sure that he would have been able to count Cyrus's ribs if the short white robe had not gotten in the way.

Frankly, Cyrus was not the most impressive of leaders Nero had ever seen. Then again, living with the imposing Credo had set his standards pretty high, so maybe Nero wasn't one to judge.

Suz wrapped her arm around Cyrus' waist (he looked absurdly pale and fragile next to her leather-clad body, and his wrist seemed as frail as an old man's clutched in her glove-clad hand), then led him over to the table beneath the glass pane on the far wall. There she sat him down in a large, plush black chair, where he reclined in apparent exhaustion. His head of long, preternaturally untangled hair hung over the arms of the chair like a waterfall.

"Thank you, Suzanne," he murmured, putting his fingers to his temple. His eyes closed. "Please, my dear, pull up a chair for our new friend."

"Yes, sir," said Suz.

"I'll stand," said Nero.

Cyrus cracked open one eye, creating a sliver of blue in his milk-white face. "As you wish." He made an effort to straighten up in his chair. "I should warn you that this may take a while."

Nero said nothing, but shot a glance at Suz, who got him a chair from beneath the computer desk. "I've got a lot of questions," said Nero, sitting down.

"As do I. But first, let's start with you. Who are you, and where did you come from?"

Nero bit his lip, trying not to explode in frustration. Attempting to keep his voice neutral, he relayed to Cyrus his story: he had sensed an odd aura, went after it, and had somehow ended up in a warehouse full of zombies.

Cyrus, after the story ended, said nothing. After a while, he looked at Suz. "Suzanne, would you be a dear and fetch Sion for me, please?"

"Yes, sir," said Suz, and marched out.

"Sending her for Sion serves two purposes," said Cyrus. "Firstly, we can speak without an eavesdropper, and secondly, I can have someone to verify your claim." His eyes were open, but only just; half lidded, Cyrus regarded Nero with uncomfortable scrutiny. "I have a question."

"Shoot," said Nero.

"You said you were in an alleyway when you sensed Sion's presence. Why were you in this alley?"

Nero tensed. He would not betray the Order or its motives to an unknown (this had been beaten into him ever since he was trained as a Knight), but, at the same time, he was wary of keeping too much information hidden. After all, weren't Cyrus and his lackeys the only potential allies Nero had? "Vacation," said Nero, opting for the less-is-more approach.

"Vacation?" asked Cyrus, puzzled. "I've heard the word, but I do not know its meaning."

Nero had to suppress quirking an eyebrow. Was Cyrus serious? "It means a break from work. That guy from earlier—Smith, I think—said you guys go 'topside' sometimes, and I guess that's the same thing. Make sense?"

Cyrus nodded. "I shall try to incorporate this word, 'vacation,' into my vocabulary." He stared at Nero for another minute or so. "I have another question for you."

"I'm listening."

"What was the date?"

"Excuse me?"

Cyrus waved a hand through the air. "The date. The day, month, and year you went through the wall after Sion."

Nero stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all." The blonde man's lips quirked in mimicry of a smile; Nero noticed that no warmth touched the ice of his blue, blue eyes.

"March tenth," Nero grunted, "2008. Happy?"

Cyrus' hand dropped from his temple to the arm of his chair. "March 10, 2008?" he repeated.

"That's right." Nero shook his head a bit. "Suz earlier asked me if I was from another world—do you guys measure years differently or something?"

Cyrus stared at him, lips pursing. "No, we measure the passage of time in the twelve-month calendar and the B.C./A.D. year template." He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees for support. "Suzanne conjectured you were from another world, yes?"

"Uh-huh," answered Nero. "She did."

Cyrus settled back in his chair. "I see. Well, she was wrong, though not by much."

"Where_ am_ I from, then?" Nero asked, growing angry when Cyrus did not immediately reply. "When will you assholes stop being so annoying and actually give me some answers, for once?"

Suz chose that moment to burst back into the room. "I can't find Sion anywhere!" Suz panted, "and no one else has seen 'em since we got back from the mission! I—"

A footstep reverberated throughout the dim room, and a figure emerged from the shadows flanking Cyrus' side. Sion.

"I am here," Sion said. The man still wore his spade-like weapon across his back, as well as his helmet and body suit.

"Ah, I should have suspected!" Cyrus said, smiling his false smile a second time.

"You asked for me?" Sion said bluntly.

"Young Nero here tells me he sensed you in an alleyway, then proceeded to follow you through a wall. Is this true?"

"That is correct."

"So you were unable to outrun or outfight him, then?"

"As you detailed, the mission was to be a non-contact one, a condition I did not wish to break. His speed is above average, even for a Blue, and I was unable to shake him."

_That word again,_ Nero thought. _'Blue.' _

Sion continued: "I did not think he would check the wall, as most humans are of the opinion matter cannot pass through solid matter, but he proved persistent enough to test it and subsequently follow me."

"I wouldn't call it 'persistence,'" Nero interjected. "More like professionalism. And besides, that wall reeked of—" He stopped, realizing he had said too much.

"Professionalism, eh?" mused Cyrus. "Meaning you were not in that alleyway by chance, as you earlier stated, but were rather sent there by orders of someone. And what in the world do you mean by 'reek?'"

"I don't have to tell you anything," Nero snapped.

Cyrus laughed a long, hollow laugh. "Oh, but my dear, naïve little Nero," he said, "you do have to tell us. You have to tell us everything." His eyes flickered to Sion. "Hold him down."

What happened then was instantaneous. Sion lunged across the room and had Nero out of his chair and pinned to the floor before the Devil Hunter could even blink. Nero began to struggle, but he heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked just as a piece of cool metal was pressed to the back of his exposed neck. "Don't move," Sion hissed, voice colorless and calm. "I will kill you if you give me a reason."

Nero fell still, eyes wide and breath heaving. _I didn't even see him move,_ he thought.

Cyrus, meanwhile, had gotten out of his chair. Suz had him in a fireman's carry, and with utmost care had taken Cyrus to stand over Nero. In the computer screens' dim light, Cyrus' handsome face was a shadowed mask.

"You will tell me everything," he said, "because you have no choice in the matter." Then the blue-eyed man placed his hand over Nero's eyes, and the world went white.

* * *

_Nero awoke in his crib. He bawled because he was scared—loud noises had roused him from his infantile slumber. A pair of leering yellow eyes peered down at him, and an inhuman scream cut the air. His mother's voice, pained. His father's lower tones, furious. _

_Then twin screams of death and hopelessness._

_Metallic noises, drifting on a haze of drowsiness. Then the hawk-like features of a young man with harsh brown eyes and the barest hint of a goatee stared down at him. Warm hands lifted him from his cradle, held him close, and the rigid line of mouth belonging to the unforgiving eyes said: "I will care for him." _

_The scene faded, and Nero was a toddler. He ran on pudgy legs down a long corridor, laughing as a girl with warmth in the lines of her baby smile ran after him. Behind them both, smiling, was the hawk-eyed man. _

_"Don't run too fast, Nero," he said. His beard was more full, and his eyes were softer. "Kyrie won't be able to keep up."_

_Nero grinned over his shoulder. "Can't catch me, Credo!" _

_The scene changed again. Nero's first day at the Academy. 'Your parents were killed by devils!' one young cadet cried, throwing a punch. Nero caught it with his chin and threw himself at the other boy._

_A new scene. Kyrie, older now and beautiful, held him to her shoulder as he sobbed. 'Who are my parents?' Nero asks. 'Who? Why did they die?'_

"What is this?" Nero asked himself. "Are these my… memories?"

_Years later, Nero came home to find Credo in a state of panic, and the little cottage he, Kyrie, and Credo shared in ruins. 'They took her!' Credo roared. Demons surrounded the skeleton of the burning house, hungry for blood. 'Go to the forest! Find Kyrie!'_

_Scant minutes later, in the forest. A horned demon glowing blue hurled swords of light at the apprenticed devil hunter, who shot the bolts down with a gun he had been building. But the barrel of the gun proved too weak to handle the rounds Nero fed it, and the weapon broke in his hand. "Kyrie, run!" said Nero. He drew his sword and lunged, but the monster batted him aside like a rag doll and Nero found himself sprawled against a tree trunk. His sword lay at Kyrie's feet, broken in two. 'Is this how I die?' the past-Nero thought as Kyrie shrieked his name. _

"No, that's not how you die," the future-Nero said.

_The demon turned to Kyrie, who stood her ground with Nero's broken sword. Her arms shook, and as the demon reached for her with a deceptively human hand Nero found the hidden strength to stand. As blood dripped into his forest-green eyes he said: "Look at me you bastard, and leave her alone."_

_The demon complied. It lunged at Nero, who raised his right arm and—_

Nero felt an echo of that long-ago explosion inside of him and screamed, body writhing in agony under Cyrus' hand.

_Nero woke up a week later under Kyrie's care. His eyes were blue. His arm began to glow during the next few months, and in his dreams a voice echoed: 'Power. Give me more power!'_

_The memories continued. A year passed, and the man in red killed His Holiness with a bullet. Truth was learned through Agnus. Betrayal carried out by His Holiness. A chase ensued, Kyrie was nearly lost to him forever, and Nero and Credo set out to reform the Order. Dante disappeared from Fortuna Island, and Nero's arm—his strength, his weakness, his eternal mystery—aided him for another year. _

_Then the fateful mission. New Orleans, dead Jud Larky, Sion in the alley, the wall, zombies—_

Nero woke up sweating on the floor. Next to him lay Cyrus, who looked weak and smug. Suz caressed his brow with a cloth, murmuring words of comfort.

"You," said Cyrus, blue eyes glittering in the dim, "are the key."

* * *

AUTHOR NOTE

So I was able to fit in Nero's past. Cool. More answers next chapter. This wasn't edited because I'm trying to crank out these chapters as quickly as I can. I officially love Cyrus. He's just so… gay and creepy. Am I weird?

DEVIL MAY CRY © CAPCOM

THE INFLUX © VIR M.


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